Subtle
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: Fill for the GKM. "Brittany's not stupid- she knows Santana is totally checking her out and enjoying it, but she doesn't mind. She likes Santana, and she doesn't see anything wrong with the way their friendship is progressing." Brittana. SMUT. SUMOSMU #8. THREE SHOT AND THAT'S IT I SWEAR.
1. Subtle

**Summary:** Fill for the GKM. "Brittany's not stupid- she knows Santana is totally checking her out and enjoying it, but she doesn't mind. She likes Santana, and she doesn't see anything wrong with the way their friendship is progressing." Brittana. SMUT. SUMOSMU #8.

**Warning:** Two girls making out and dry-humping each other. Pretty tame, as far as my stories go.

**A/N: **Hello, darlings! :D Happy Wanky Wednesday to you; got a short offering for you this week, since my lovely friend **crammit **prettymuch killed all of us with how hot her _CSP_ (_Companion Smut Piece_), **Barter System, **was. I'm still recovering, myself. Seriously, if you haven't read it- read this first, because after you read hers you'll probably need a cigarette. Ho-ly _fuck_.

So anyways! As the summary informed, this is #8 in the SUMMER OF SMUT (**SUMOSMU** tag on tumblr, for those of you just joining us from home) and we still have a ways to go! Now that NSG is, sadly, over, I will hopefully be getting to my stack of more lengthy prompts, so next week should be a longer one. :)

This story is randomly dedicated to reader **M206**! Thanks for reading and reviewing, and you're awesome! :D Your patronage is very much appreciated. *sagely nod*

Happy wanking~

* * *

Sometimes, Brittany wonders if Santana actually thinks she's fooling anyone with her obvious leering.

She doesn't think the other Cheerios have picked up on it yet- mostly due to the fact that they don't look past the tough, bitchy exterior that Santana projects on a daily basis, and also because Santana is a Freshman Nobody on the bottom of the pyramid- but Brittany does, and she sees it. (Or maybe the other Cheerios don't notice because they aren't constantly sneaking glances at Santana the way Brittany does.)

Brittany studies Santana (secretly) and doesn't miss the furtive glances Santana gives the other girls when she thinks no one's watching. She notices the dark, glazed look Santana gets in her eyes when she checks out Jessica's ass when she bends to tighten her shoelaces; or Quinn's legs when she does an air split; or Brittany's everything when she does anything. Brittany doesn't think too much about it- Jessica does have a nice ass, Quinn's legs are attractive, and Brittany knows that her own body is bangin', so she doesn't blame Santana for looking (though she wishes Santana would look at her more.)

Cheerleading comes easy, and is also fun for Brittany, so while half of the new freshman squad struggles, Brittany shines without too much effort. It's still a hot, humid day, though, and she can feel a light layer of sweat coating her skin. When Coach Sylvester blows the whistle signaling practice is over and to start working on their cool-down stretches, Brittany is grateful.

She's even more grateful when Santana finds her to help with her stretches. _She's such a good friend_, she thinks as she rests her ankle on Santana's shoulder and leans forward, stretching out her hamstrings. Santana licks her lips, and Brittany smiles brightly at her, watching her brown eyes darken even further. She's not stupid- she knows Santana is totally checking her out and enjoying it, but she doesn't mind. She likes Santana, and she doesn't see anything wrong with the way their friendship is progressing. She's seen the current look in Santana's eyes a few times before- but usually after they make out. Seeing it now, unassociated with making out, is a little odd to Brittany, but she figures Santana just really likes looking at the girls on the squad. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Brittany leans forward further, feeling the burn in her muscles and sighing. When she reaches out to steady herself on Santana's arm, Santana wraps fingers around her forearm and strokes it discreetly, giving Brittany goosebumps and setting her nerves on fire. Santana's touch is always like electric to Brittany, sending a jolt straight to her stomach. The butterflies she gets when Santana looks at her or touches her are more intense than she's ever felt with anyone else before, but she hasn't started to sort out those feelings yet, content with where they stand.

Her gaze rises to meet Santana's, and Brittany swallows at the intensity, then forces a playful smile. Santana has her plump lower lip pulled between her teeth and is watching Brittany with burning interest. It's a look Brittany has seen before, and after she finishes her stretch, she allows Santana to link their pinkies and discreetly tug her around and under the bleachers.

Once out of sight of the other Cheerios who are still packing up, Santana pulls Brittany into a hot kiss, her mouth opening almost immediately to swipe her tongue against Brittany's bottom lip. Brittany returns the kiss, though she's unsure what it's for; but she's not going to turn down a kiss from Santana. She likes kissing Santana.

Brittany is a little confused as to why they're kissing under the bleachers, though, so when Santana pulls back for a breath, Brittany gives her a confused look. "What was that for?"

Santana shrugs in response, her confident façade belying the fact that they've never kissed anywhere but in the safety of their bedrooms behind locked doors, or behind the safety of being drunk at a party _for show_. They are in the open- hidden, but still outside- and there is no party. Brittany wonders fleetingly if this means their relationship is changing, but then Santana says, her voice rough and low, "I just feel really tense, B. From practice. Gotta blow off some steam."

"Oh," Brittany says, releasing a breath. She's not quite disappointed- after all, she gets to kiss Santana, and that makes her happy. So as she nods and Santana leans in and kisses her again, harder and more aggressively, Brittany doesn't hesitate to open her mouth to allow Santana's tongue access to her own. Santana's teeth find her bottom lip, and Brittany lets out a heavy breath, sliding her hands around Santana's neck as the smaller girl's arms wrap around her waist, pulling their hips together.

Brittany whimpers in response, especially when Santana guides her forcibly back to the beam supporting the bleachers and presses her against it. Santana's mouth is hungry and hot, and Brittany lets Santana kiss her fiercely, gasping when she sucks on her bottom lip hard. Brittany tightens her arms around Santana's neck and shifts her weight; she was hot before, but now she feels even more so, and there's an uncomfortable dampness in her underwear that she's noticed always accompanies her make-out sessions with Santana. She's not sure if she should be embarrassed or not, but when Santana's hand slips from her waist and moves down to grope her ass roughly through her Cheerios skirt, she forgets to care.

A soft moan works its way up from her throat as Santana continues to dominate her, her hands squeezing at her ass, her teeth tugging on her lips. Her tongue slips against hers, wet and smooth, and the contact sends a hard throb of arousal straight between Brittany's legs. She moans again, cupping the back of Santana's neck, and wishing her hair wasn't up in a ponytail, because she wants to run her fingers through it, wants to pull it affectionately, and it's harder when it's gathered up so tightly.

The kiss picks up in intensity, and Brittany's head is spinning. She lets her arms trail down Santana's back, caressing lightly. Santana is usually okay with being touched when they kiss, just as long as it's not in any _sexy_ areas. Brittany is careful about where she lets her hands roam, even though Santana isn't as she continues to grope Brittany's ass, tugging her hips forward and against her own. Cautiously, Brittany slides her hands down to Santana's ass, and when Santana doesn't protest, she cups it hesitantly, squeezing.

The loud moan Santana releases in her mouth- _so_ not subtle- makes Brittany throb painfully, her blood heating. She can feel her face flushing with arousal, can feel her pulse pounding _everywhere_. The dampness between her legs has become more prominent and Brittany knows if she slipped her hand down her skirt she'd find herself slick and soaked. A tremor runs through her at the thought.

Santana's still pulling her hips against hers, but the complete lack of friction is frustrating. Their hips are moving in tandem, but neither of them is getting anywhere with it. Brittany wonders if they've ever let themselves get this out of control- they usually stop making out long before they reach the point they're at, though Brittany is usually still turned on, and finishes herself off once Santana leaves. The quickness with which she comes around her own fingers after their make-out sessions should leave her a little embarrassed, but she knows she can't help the way she feels, and besides- isn't the point of making out to get all hot and bothered? Why would she resist?

Without thinking, Brittany shifts her stance, pushing her thigh forward and between Santana's legs. Santana breaks the kiss suddenly with a sharp gasp, and her hips jerk forward, pushing against Brittany's firm thigh. Brittany looks into Santana's dark eyes, knowing her own are hazy and clouded over with lust, and wonders if she went too far- but the way Santana is rutting against her, rubbing her clothed sex against Brittany's thigh, reassures her. Pausing for only a second, Santana dives in and attacks Brittany's neck, sucking hard, and Brittany is thankful Cheerios practice is over, because she knows Santana's leaving a bruise- _so_ not subtle- that she'll have to cover up. She's shocked- Santana's never left a mark before, and Brittany's heart flutters involuntarily at the thought that Santana is claiming her, making her _hers_.

Brittany moans, tightening her grip on Santana's ass, as Santana's teeth bite into her neck as she sucks. She pulls Santana tight to her thigh, tensing her quads, and tilts her head back against the support beam she's leaning against. She can feel how hot and wet Santana's sex is against her bare skin. She can smell Santana's arousal, feel how she's soaked through her Spanx, and it only makes Brittany throb harder, knowing Santana is as turned on as she is.

Santana's hips move insistently against her, and Brittany aches for friction herself, but is enjoying the pleasured moans that Santana's making too much to risk breaking whatever spell they've fallen under. Santana pants into her mouth and Brittany kisses her, letting their tongues meet. Santana's jerky thrusts are becoming more erratic, more desperate, and Brittany can practically feel the tension building in Santana. She can feel her building up to something, but she _can't_ be about to _come_- can she? Brittany moans at the thought and pulls Santana firmly against her thigh, kissing her hungrily.

After long, intense moments, Santana breaks the kiss and pulls away, and Brittany feels her stomach drop with disappointment, expecting it to be over. She's pleasantly surprised when Santana presses one more gentle kiss to her lips, and then she's just confused as Santana guides her to turn around, so that she's facing the support beam. Weren't they supposed to be making out?

But then Santana fits her hips against Brittany's ass, and the strangled moan Santana releases at the contact makes her forget everything else. Santana ruts against her ass, and even through two pairs of undergarments, Brittany can feel her warmth and her wetness. The obscene rustling of the damn fabric as it drags against her makes her stomach tighten with want, and she swallows, resting her forehead against the beam and gripping onto it tightly.

Santana's thrusts become increasingly more animalistic, her hands curving around Brittany's hips, her fingers sliding and resting along the _V_ of her stomach, just under the waistband of her Cheerios skirt. Brittany shivers at Santana's warm fingertips pressing into her bare skin- Santana's never touched her there before, and the heated contact makes her moan, pushing her ass back into Santana's thrusts.

It's hard to hear Santana over the sound of her own panting and blood rushing in her ears, but she catches snatches of Santana mumbling against her shoulder as Santana's grip tightens even further around her waist. (She's sure she's going to have bruises along her hips, but she doesn't care- she'll be thankful for the reminder that this even happened.)

"Fuck, B, you feel so good," Santana mutters hoarsely from behind her, her breath coming in heavy pants. "_Ugh_- your ass is so hot."

Brittany shakes. The ache between her legs has become painful, and she wishes she could just reach down and touch herself. It wouldn't take much- she'd maybe have to stroke herself twice, and she'd come _so hard_. She bites her lip, resisting. She doesn't want to risk anything stopping what's happening. She has no clue why Santana has decided to use her in this way- she's pretty sure if Santana was _that_ turned on, she could've relieved herself in the shower or even in her car; it's not unheard of, Brittany's done it plenty of times- but she loves the fact that she's making Santana feel good, even though she's doing nothing but letting Santana have her ass, letting Santana use her for her own pleasure.

"I'm gonna _come_," Santana pants, barely audible. "Fuck, gonna come all over your ass, B-"

Brittany wants to say something, wants to respond, but instead she bites her lip harder. She hears Santana's heavy breaths speed up behind her- she wishes she could watch Santana come, _ugh_- and then hears Santana's sharp gasp of release against her shoulder. Santana's hips jolt forward suddenly and freeze, pressing hard against her for a long, tense moment and then rolling slightly. She can feel Santana shaking through her orgasm, her forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, her fingers digging into her hips, and Brittany whimpers as her clit throbs, throbs, throbs, _fuck_-

She's so close. She's wet- _ready_. She wonders if Santana would really mind if she just touched herself for a second- just a _second_- but then the warmth on her back is gone, and Santana is pulling away. Brittany takes a deep, shaky breath and turns. She swallows, not having noticed her mouth had gone completely dry. It's silent for a moment.

"Do you feel better?" Brittany asks, offering Santana a sweet, genuine smile despite the desire pounding through her entire body. After all, that _is_ why Santana just humped her ass, right? Because she was tense?

"Look, I don't know what you _think_ just happened, but Puck's been leaving me frustrated lately," Santana says harshly and unnecessarily, her eyes hard and cold. Brittany blinks. Who said anything about _Puck_? "It has nothing to do with you," she adds, reaching up to fix her immaculate ponytail, despite the fact that it isn't messed up in the slightest.

"Um." Brittany's unsure how to respond. Her arousal is gone thanks to Santana's words, but she's still sticky between her legs. She fidgets nervously, uncomfortably. "Okay."

Santana drops her hard expression and sighs, her brown eyes softening. "Come here. Turn around." Brittany does, obediently, and swallows as she feels Santana reach up and tug her ponytail free, then re-gather her hair and tie it back up, her fingers gentle, _loving_ even-

"I just don't want you getting the wrong idea, all right?" Santana says softly from behind her as she fixes Brittany's hair. "I mean, I'm not gay or anything."

Brittany remains silent. She's not sure what to say. She's completely confused. She never said Santana was gay-

"You know that, right?" Santana presses as Brittany turns back around to face her. "That I'm not gay?"

"Of course, Santana," Brittany mutters, lowering her eyes obediently. She looks up bravely after a moment. "But even if you _were_-"

"But I'm _not_, so let's drop it," she snaps. "I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who, if he plays his cards right, _might_ even get to second base tonight." Santana grins slyly, her expression transforming into a familiar predatory one.

Brittany forces a smile. "Cool."

"Ugh- look, I've gotta go," Santana says, like some emergency just came up, even though Brittany knows nothing did. She swallows and nods.

"Sure. Um- call me tonight, after?"

Santana grins, reaching out to link their pinkies, and giving Brittany's a soft squeeze. "Of course, B." Then she releases her and saunters away, and Brittany watches her go for a moment, shaking her head.

"…okay."

Sometimes, Brittany wonders if Santana actually thinks she's fooling anyone- but then she answers her own question.

Santana's anything but subtle.

* * *

**And that's it! Short and not-so-sweet because Santana's kind of a bitch, but we will forgive her for it, right? She comes around eventually. (Pun intendeddddd)**

**Well, review if you feel like it, but if you don't, then proceed directly to read **crammit's** story. She totally did this position better justice than me!**

**AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:**

**If you are a closeted lesbian, and wish to remain so, it's probably not a good idea to dry-hump a girl out in the open. **

**However, if you do decide to, or even if you're an out-and-proud lesbo who gives no fucks and will dry-hump a bitch all day up under some bleachers or anywhere, my advice to you is this:**

**Bring a change of underwear. It's not particularly comfortable (or hygienic) walking around in soaking wet panties. (Although, as with everything, some people enjoy that feeling, in which case, more power to you.) **

**PLAY SAFE AND STAY SAFE! :D**


	2. Obvious

**Warning: **Same as the first chapter, yo.

**A/N:** HAH! **SURPRIIIISE**! Happy Sexy Saturday, err'body! ;)

So, ya'll can blame (or thank, whichever) **crammit** for this fic, because she bugged me like a boss. So here's the second part of this TWO-SHOT; fic dedication is the same, of course.

Happy wanking! 8)~

* * *

It's hours later, and Brittany's lying on her bed, reading a book and trying not to think about Santana being with _Puck_. Despite her best efforts, however, her blue eyes dart anxiously back and forth between the small clock on her bedside table and her iPhone on the bed beside her. As the minutes drag, Brittany chews her lip nervously and replays everything that happened with Santana under the bleachers in her mind. The burning, dark look in Santana's eyes, the way Santana's hands felt on the skin of her stomach for the first time, the rough, insistent motion of Santana's hips rutting against her ass, the hot, rapid puffs of breath expelled from Santana's mouth as she approached her orgasm- it's almost too much for Brittany to handle.

But then there's the suddenness with which Santana's eyes turned cold, the sharp, cutting edge of her words, her quick departure- all of it left Brittany confused, with her stomach twisting itself into knots, and the past few hours haven't helped that knot to loosen. She's not used to feeling this way; she's confused and unsure as to why she does. She's never been jealous before. She's never been _rejected_ before. She doesn't really know how to handle either of those feelings.

She also doesn't know how to _stop_ feeling them, and that's the weirdest sensation of all. She's never been helpless before; she's never been at the mercy of someone else. It's new and a little scary, especially when she realizes with a sinking feeling that Santana, quite obviously, doesn't reciprocate her feelings.

She glances at her silent phone again and sighs.

She refocuses back on her book and realizes she's read the same paragraph seven times, but can't even decipher what it says. Sighing again, she shuts the book and places it on her bedside table. She's not going to get any reading done tonight. Maybe she should just go to sleep.

Her thoughts drift again, back to that heated moment under the bleachers. Fuck, Santana had been so sexy, the way she moaned when she came-

Brittany clenches her thighs shut, biting her lip. She can't think about that. It would probably never happen again. And Santana's with _Puck_, anyways-

She startles when she hears her window sliding open, and sits up quickly. Her heart pounds when Santana climbs smoothly through the window, just as she's done at least a dozen times before. Brittany watches, swallowing down her anxiety as Santana's feet touch the ground and she bends to close the window behind her. When Santana turns, their eyes meet briefly before Santana drops her gaze, and Brittany can tell she's nervous- she's practically vibrating with it.

"Hey, B," Santana says softly, avoiding her eyes.

"Hi," Brittany returns, just as softly. She glances at her closed bedroom door- it's a little late for Santana to be over, but she knows her parents won't disturb her. They just have to keep their voices down. It's not like they've never snuck over each other's houses before- the thought makes Brittany's heart twinge a little.

It's quiet for a moment, and finally, Brittany breaks the silence. "How was- uhm, how was your date with Puck?"

Santana shakes her head slowly, still avoiding Brittany's eyes. "I cancelled."

Brittany's eyebrows rise dramatically. "What? But-"

"I'm sorry about earlier," Santana interrupts suddenly, finally lifting her gaze from the various furniture around Brittany's room. Brittany can feel her heart pounding in her chest at Santana's apology, can feel her stomach knot untying itself.

"It's okay," Brittany says, because she doesn't know what else to say. Despite her best efforts to stop it, her heart flutters with hope. (Santana _apologized_, Santana _didn't_ go out with Puck, Santana's _standing in her bedroom_-)

Santana's expression, fearful and fervent, softens a little. Her brown eyes take on a shine of gratitude, and Brittany is glad that she said the right thing for once- she wants to reassure Santana, she wants Santana to feel safe, and not regretful. So she smiles at her, relieved that her stomach isn't tense and twisty anymore- that is, until Santana moves closer to the bed, and then Brittany's stomach is tensing and twisting in a whole different way- a _good_ way. She keeps Santana's gaze and wonders at Santana's words- wonders if their relationship is going to change-

Santana reaches up to stroke Brittany's blonde bangs from her face, and Brittany's breath catches in her throat at the bare, gentle touch. Her nerves suddenly feel like they're on fire from Santana's fingertips on her forehead, on her cheek, and she swallows, her mouth feeling like she ate an entire bag of cotton balls.

"I shouldn't have left you like that," Santana says in a voice just above a whisper, and before Brittany can respond, she's leaning forward and pressing her full lips to Brittany's.

Brittany sucks in a breath and kisses back, unsure if she should reach up to touch Santana; but when Santana shifts closer, when Santana climbs onto the bed and straddles her, Brittany can't resist, and she cups Santana's face in her hand, pulling her deeper into the kiss.

Brittany's heart is thundering, her stomach is tensing, and for a moment, Brittany panics- she wonders if Santana can see the obvious way her body responds to her touch, to her kisses, and how Santana would react- but then Santana tilts her head and swipes her tongue across Brittany's bottom lip, and Brittany can't stop the soft moan that forces its way from her throat even if she tried.

The sound seems to embolden Santana, whose kiss grows more ferocious by the second; Santana plants her elbows just above Brittany's shoulders and tangles the fingers on her right hand in Brittany's hair, using her left hand to cup Brittany's jaw and guide her even deeper into the kiss. Brittany pants, gasps when Santana's thigh suddenly presses between her legs. and she wraps her arms around Santana's tiny waist. Her hips rock up reflexively and her head is spinning, her thoughts jumbled as the gravity of the situation hits her- this is the first time she's ever felt any part of Santana pressed against her so intimately.

Her thoughts fly back to the memory of earlier in the day, to the way Santana felt pressed against her and the heat of her fingers on her skin, and all at once Brittany's throbbing, her breath coming in rapid, heavy pants as Santana's lips work their way down her jaw and to her ear, finding the sweet spot on her neck almost instantly. When Santana begins sucking there, Brittany's hips buck up in response, and Santana presses her thigh against her harder. Brittany can't stop the rolling of her hips; she's too turned on, she needs release too badly. She hadn't been able to work past the sting of Santana's cruel words to take care of her built-up tension from earlier, and now that it's back and doubled in potency, Brittany's aching for release.

They start a quick, clumsy rhythm that grows smoother as it goes; Santana's thigh is warm but Brittany's core is warmer, and Brittany can feel how slick she is, how she's soaked through her underwear and probably her shorts. She hopes Santana can't feel it, but she's a little embarrassed to admit that she probably _can._

A sharp thrust makes Brittany moan loudly, and Santana hushes her gently in her ear, reminding her that it's late. Brittany bites her lip to stifle herself, but she's close already and she's completely ashamed at how little it's taking to get her off. She looks up into Santana's face- Santana's biting her lip, too, her eyes downcast to watch the way her thigh rubs against Brittany's damp center, the way Brittany's hips push up against it. It's carnal and instinctual and the sight makes Brittany's skin burn hotter. She wants Santana to touch her _so_ _badly_, but she's not sure how to ask and not sure what kind of line it might cross, and she can feel her orgasm approaching and definitely doesn't want to risk Santana stopping-

"I'm- I'm close," Brittany pants, her grip tightening on Santana's back. She tries to find purchase in Santana's shoulder blades without hurting her, but she's not sure she can, and she feels like she _needs_ to hold onto something, because she knows she's going to come _hard_-

She wants Santana to look at her- and Santana does, but fleetingly, sparing quick glances at Brittany's face. It's obvious that Santana wants to watch her come apart, but is too ashamed to admit it, doesn't want Brittany to think she's _gay_. Brittany can see the panic playing out on Santana's face, and her heart sinks a little. She doesn't want Santana to be uncomfortable- not like this.

"Wait," she gasps, and Santana's eyes find hers curiously. "I want- I want to do it like you did." It takes Santana a second, but then Brittany sees the relief wash over her face. Santana nods quickly, shifting off of her and beside her on the bed, and Brittany gently pushes Santana down onto her stomach, then straddles her ass, biting her lip at the sight. She was already close, but she knows she's not going to last long at all.

When Brittany brings her throbbing, clothed center down to the firm curve of Santana's ass, she lets her breath out with a heavy groan. Santana's so soft and supple but solid, and she can feel the way Santana flexes the muscles as Brittany thrusts against her, moaning softly. Her hips rut hard, pushing her throbbing, swollen clit against the firm muscle, and Brittany's palms press into the bed on either side of Santana, holding her weight.

For a moment, Brittany's mind wanders away, and she imagines what it might be like if Santana wasn't wearing her clothes, and if Brittany wasn't wearing her sleep shorts. She wishes she could feel the smooth, hot skin of Santana's ass pressed against her dripping core, wishes she could rub her wetness all over it-

Santana moans beneath her, and Brittany can feel the tension in her body. Her heart is pounding so hard she thinks it might beat right out of her chest, and she imagines leaning down, sliding her arms under Santana's shoulders and pressing her breasts into Santana's back as she thrusts; she craves to be closer, craves intimacy with Santana, but she knows she can't have it, not yet.

Santana turns her head slightly and Brittany notices her watching her out of the corner of her eye, her mouth open as she breathes heavily, her face flushed despite her tan complexion. She knows Santana wants to watch her fall apart- and she won't deny her, not this. She drops her head a little and thrusts jerkily, feeling herself right at the edge. Her thighs tense and she closes her eyes and imagines them pressed together, naked and sweaty, imagines their eyes locked solely on each other, imagines whispered words of love-

When her orgasm hits her with the force of a freight train, Brittany bites her lip to keep from crying out, a tiny, strangled whimper all that escapes her as she shudders and jerks her hips, pressed tight to Santana's ass. She _feels_ Santana shiver beneath her, hears her moan and breathe, "you're so hot, B," as the shocks pulse through her.

When her hips finally still and her breathing calms slightly, she reaches up and pulls a hand through her hair, then slides off of Santana and onto her back beside her on the bed. Her chest is still heaving and she knows her face and collarbones are still flushed, and she's worried Santana is going to panic again, that she's going to freak out about what they just did and leave- but then Santana's leaning over her and kissing her, slipping her tongue into her mouth, and Brittany sighs, completely overwhelmed with the pleasant but confusing feelings rushing through her.

After long moments of slow kissing, Santana curls up against her, laying her head on Brittany's shoulder. They usually always cuddle after making out, even though Brittany's always painfully turned on. She's never had cuddles with Santana after an amazing, satisfying orgasm though, and she hums with pleasure and contentment, stroking fingers through Santana's dark hair and enjoying the pressure of Santana's warm body against her.

When they're cuddling like this, Brittany thinks it's kind of obvious how Santana feels about her.

* * *

**D'awww. :')**

**Well, there you have it! **

**My very short, recent venture into the land of angst has been sufficiently resolved. **

**Review if you feel like it. But if not, well, see you Wednesday!**

**AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:**

**Don't climb into someone's house through their second-story window. It's highly dangerous. What if you fell and broke both your arms? Then you wouldn't be able to do anything- no writing, no tumblr-ing, NO FUCKING. How awful! D:**

**So just don't. Or at least get a ladder, and follow all ladder safety precautions.**

**If da bitch lives on the first floor, though- then that's probably okay. Just maybe give her a warning first- she might have a baseball bat.**

**Or, if she's me- a taser. XD **

**PLAY SAFE AND STAY SAFE! :D**

*****chapter title is taken from the Blink182 song of the same name, which kind of fits


	3. Come and Get It

**Warning**: Same as the first two chapters, yo!

**A/N:** Well, hello, there! 8)~ Happy Wanky Wednesday! I'm back with the third and final part of this story, and ya'll can thank my boo, **crammit** for pestering me to bring this story full circle. :)

For those of you who asked about making this a full-length story, I already have another story I planned on writing that is canon-based, very similar to my **Back to Black** story, which will follow the first two seasons from Britt's POV; which is why I decline to make _this_ a full-length story. Look for it later this year, possibly October once I finish the Summer of Smut and get the ball rolling on my new multi-chaptered Pirate!Brittana story.

In the meantime, though, enjoy this final installment, and keep shipping Brittana! 8D~

* * *

Brittany feels sick.

Maybe it's because she drank too much alcohol, or drank it in the wrong order. She never could remember that rhyme about beer before liquor. (Or was it the other way?)

Maybe it's because she ate some bad party food. She's pretty sure those crackers were stale. Maybe they'd had mold on them, and Brittany hadn't realized until after she'd eaten them.

Or maybe- and most likely- it's because Santana is currently heavily flirting with Puck.

It had been a week since they'd awkwardly used each other to get off, and in that time, they'd barely spoken, and especially not about that. It left a heavy air of tension hanging between them, so that when they did actually speak, it was awkward and uneasy. Brittany was torn between wishing it had never happened, and cherishing the memory. She knew Santana wasn't ready to talk about what had happened, and might _never_ be ready to talk about it. Maybe they didn't even _need_ to… but regardless, Brittany wished that their friendship could go back to normal. She hoped that, if she let Santana be, she would come to her whenever she was ready. In the meantime, she tried to be patient, despite the fact that she missed her best friend.

It seemed like maybe they were on the right track when Santana had texted her earlier and invited her to this party- but then she'd spent the majority of the night doing things to catch Puck's attention and completely ignoring her, which had hurt worse.

Brittany sighs, cradling her cup of beer in her hand and feeling her stomach tie itself in knots at the sight of Santana talking to- flirting with- Puck. She's trying to be patient, but her heart hurts, and she feels sick, and it's a completely unfamiliar feeling to her. She tries to tell herself that Santana is only hanging all over Puck because she blew off hanging with him earlier in the week (to be with _her_, she reminds herself) but the way she's smiling and giggling at everything he says makes her stomach feel like she swallowed a heavy stone.

She takes another sip of her unappetizing beer, frowning as Santana presses her body against Puck and bats her eyelashes, smiling teasingly at him. She can't stand to watch anymore. She knows Santana will never look at _her_ like she looks at Puck; will never press against her like she presses against Puck, out in the open. She could wait, she could be patient all she wants, but Santana will never, ever acknowledge her feelings. She's doomed to be Santana's friend and occasional _fuck buddy_- if she can even call herself that. A _fuck buddy_ implies that there is _fucking_- which Brittany would welcome gladly over the way Santana had _used_ her to get off earlier in the week.

Sighing bitterly, Brittany sets her beer down and wanders away to look for some place quiet to sit, some place to avoid the display that's making her stomach roil.

(She misses the way brown eyes watch her from across the room as she departs.)

She can feel a headache forming and she just wants to go home and rest. She finally finds a quiet room of the house and sits down on the floor, leaning back against the foot of the empty bed, but now she's alone, with only her slightly tipsy thoughts to keep her company.

She'd thought, being at a party with Santana, that maybe they'd make out _for show_ like they always do to get the attention of boys. Brittany hadn't been close to Santana in days, and despite her wanting to give Santana time to come to her to talk, she still craved Santana's nearness, her touch, her warmth. She couldn't stop thinking about what happened between them, and even just the faint hope of getting to meaninglessly kiss her was enough to get Brittany's heart pounding.

But hope didn't do anything for her except hurt her worse when reality sank in. Santana had spent all night with Puck, ignoring her like maybe she had terrible breath or some horrible skin disease or something, and Brittany had never felt so lonely and upset before. She feels tears springing to her eyes. _Hope is stupid._

It seems like she's only been alone with her thoughts for a few minutes of silent self-pity, though, when Santana finds her.

"Hey," she murmurs as she slides down next to her, bumping their shoulders together playfully. "You okay?"

Brittany bites her lip, keeping her tears at bay, and nods, but she knows Santana is more perceptive than that.

"B, seriously. What's wrong?"

Brittany swallows. "I just- I don't feel so good," she mutters. "I think it's the alcohol."

"Oh, honey," Santana coos as she rubs a hand over her back soothingly. Brittany feels like an idiot for practically leaning in to the affectionate touch like a starving puppy, feels like she could sob with relief from the warmth of Santana's hand. Brittany's heart pounds with traitorous _hope_, and her mind screams at it to stop beating like that every time Santana touches her, it will only end in pain-

"You didn't drink that blue stuff, right?"

Brittany shakes her head, wondering if Santana can suddenly hear the way her heart is hammering in her chest. "No, you told me not to."

"Mmhm," Santana purrs, making gentle circles over her shoulder. "Do you want to go home?"

"I- I don't want to pull you away from the party-"

The hand halts. "Britt, stop. It's just a stupid party. You're way more important. I can watch these Neanderthals stumble their way through beer pong every weekend, since there's literally nothing else to do in this lame-ass shit town." Brittany smiles slightly (heart fluttering) and Santana mirrors it, her dimples showing (heart aching) and slides her hand down to link their pinkies (heart pounding.) She tugs gently.

Brittany nods. "Then let's go."

* * *

They end up back at Santana's house, and Brittany feels nervous. It's the first time she's been over since- well, since _what happened_, and the first time she's been completely alone with Santana since then, too. Her buzz from earlier is gone, replaced with a different kind of buzz that only being around Santana can produce, and her stomach is tense again with nervousness. She's not sure where they stand, because they haven't talked about anything (Brittany's fingers are itching to reach out and touch Santana, her skin is aching to feel Santana's touch, her lips are tingling with the remembrance of Santana's lips against them, and her body is eager to have Santana's pressed against it again) so Brittany stands silently in Santana's room, watching Santana unpin her dark hair and remove her earrings.

"B, you can borrow some PJs. You know where they are," Santana says softly with a shrug, avoiding looking directly at her, and Brittany nods, feeling a lump forming in her throat. She hadn't expected to stay the night at Santana's house, but now that she is, she has conflicted feelings again; is Santana going to use _her_, since she didn't have Puck? Is she going to ignore her and just go to sleep? Are they going to talk?

She reaches to rifle through the bottom drawer of Santana's dresser, pulling out spare cheer shorts and a t-shirt, and before she can think better of it, she begins to undress, realizing too late that she probably should've moved to the bathroom.

But _why_? They've always changed in front of each other, and they still do every day at Cheerios practice. Why should now be any different? Because they slept together? _We didn't, though_, Brittany argues internally. But she doesn't know what exactly it was that they _did_ do, because Santana refuses to talk about it-

Brittany jolts as she feels warm hands on her stomach from behind, and before she can respond, Santana's moist lips press against her bare shoulder. She curses (praises) herself again for not using the bathroom to change, then shivers as she remembers she's currently in cheer shorts and a bra, and Santana's hands are on her stomach.

Her thoughts race- is Santana going to _use_ her again? (Her pulse pounds, her clit throbs, her heart sinks at the thought) Is Santana just being affectionate? Should she-

Warm, tan hands turn her around by her hips, and then Santana's leaning up and they're kissing, softly at first, but then more aggressively as Santana licks into her mouth, hot and demanding and eager. Brittany moans lowly, struggling not to pull Santana closer or touch her at all, but when Santana moves herself closer of her own free will, sliding her hands onto Brittany's ass, Brittany can't resist reaching up to wrap arms around her back to press their bodies together.

Santana pulls back for a moment to ask in a mumble, "Is your stomach feeling better?"

Panting, Brittany nods quickly, and then Santana's mouth is back on hers, kissing fiercely, biting and sucking gently at her lips. Somehow they end up on the bed, with Brittany on the bottom once again. Santana's hands haven't stopped groping her ass, and Brittany's heart is pounding, the insistent ache between her legs getting harder to ignore the longer Santana moves atop her. She can feel Santana's hips starting to rock against her, and her throat constricts with emotion.

This is it. Santana's going to use her again. That's all Brittany will ever be, just an object for Santana to get off on, and she'll never be anything more. (Santana will never look at _her_ like she looks at Puck, will never press against her like she presses against Puck- her heart clenches painfully.) She breaks the kiss, lowering her eyes, and dejectedly moves to turn onto her stomach so that Santana can do what she needs to-

A hand on her shoulder stops her, and she dares her gaze up to Santana's face, which holds a pained, regretful expression (and something else she's never seen before, something she thinks she might have dreamed.) Brittany allows herself to be pressed back onto the bed, and Santana's eyes soften as she studies Brittany's face.

(Santana's not looking at her like she looks at Puck- she's looking at her like Brittany is _everything_.)

Slowly, Santana leans in and Brittany shakes as their lips touch softly, sensually, and Brittany feels as if the pillows are swallowing her up, as if she might sink through the sheets and the mattress and land on the floor, and the jarring blow will wake her from the dream she must obviously still be in. Santana's hand is gentle and reverent as she touches Brittany's face, strokes down her neck and chest and stomach, and all Brittany can do is tremble with anticipation, her heart thundering with traitorous hope.

Santana shifts to straddle Brittany's thigh, and carefully begins to rock against it, pressing her own to Brittany's center. Brittany gasps in the dark at the contact, and Santana kisses her again, stealing her breath.

(Santana doesn't press against her like she presses against Puck- she presses against her as if she _needs_ her.)

When Santana touches her stomach fleetingly, Brittany visibly shakes, wishing Santana would go higher, wishing Santana would touch her breasts- or lower, wishing Santana would touch her wet, aching sex. She wishes she could touch Santana there, also, but Santana's thigh against her feels good, too, and her thigh against Santana feels even better, so Brittany is content to not push Santana too far too fast.

(Santana will come to her when she's ready- Brittany must be patient.)

They don't stop kissing, and Brittany's heart doesn't stop racing in her chest. She can feel how wet and hot Santana is against her thigh, even through her sleepwear, and the knowledge that she's the one that caused it makes her stomach tighten in the best way. Santana's small whimpers in her mouth only confirm that Brittany's making her feel good, and maybe Brittany doesn't mind the fact that they never talk about this, as long as she can continue to make Santana feel good, as long as she can keep sharing this part of Santana.

(As long as Santana looks at her like she's _everything_, presses against her like she _needs_ her.)

Their movements grow jerkier, they lose their rhythm. Brittany can feel herself getting close, but she thinks Santana is closer, judging by the way she's had to stop kissing her to pant heavily against her jaw. Brittany tightens her grip around Santana.

"Britt," Santana whimpers, her hips rutting forward hard, and Brittany presses a kiss to her cheek as Santana's fingers dig into her shoulders. In the next instant, Santana lifts her head, and her brown eyes find Brittany's blue ones; Brittany feels like a thunderbolt jolts through her at the contact, and she can't believe Santana's looking at her with her dark, burning eyes. She's never felt so connected to a person before, and the fact that that person is Santana makes Brittany feel like she might explode from feeling too much.

Santana doesn't break eye contact, not even when she falls apart with a shuddering cry and a hard buck of her hips, and Brittany knows, in that moment, what Santana's trying to unknowingly tell her- that Santana is _hers_, and that she's _always_ been hers, and (Brittany hopes) she will always _be_ hers.

When Santana finally squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face in Brittany's neck, shaking, Brittany cradles her to her chest, reveling in her warmth against her bare skin. Santana keeps her thigh pressed to Brittany's center, though, and just the memory of the way Santana looked seconds before when she came helps Brittany find her release. She holds Santana tightly as she arches up, her hips jerking against Santana's bare thigh, and she feels Santana hum and press a kiss to her neck in response, then move to kiss her on the lips. Brittany can barely breathe but she kisses back sloppily, stroking shaky fingers through Santana's hair, overwhelmed with the feelings and knowledge she now has.

After long moments, their breathing slows and Santana doesn't move from against her, settling her weight down and burying her face in Brittany's neck. Brittany lazily strokes up and down Santana's back, her thoughts racing.

Tomorrow, Santana might wake up and panic. She might run to Puck. She might ignore Brittany for another week.

But Brittany knows what she saw in Santana's eyes. She knows how Santana really feels, even if Santana doesn't.

Brittany is patient.

Brittany will wait.

(Someday, Santana will be ready.)

* * *

**And that's a wrap! :')  
I hope you enjoyed the story, and will continue to read whatever other crap I post, haha.**

**Leave a review if you'd like, because I always appreciate your thoughts, but it's not a requirement. :)**

**See you next time, pals!**

**AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:**

**Drinking at parties is all fun and games, but, as you should all know, underage drinking is a thing, and is illegal. However, it's gonna happen, so here are a few tips to stay safe:**

**NEVER drink and drive. I mean NEVER. You are not only putting your life at risk, you are putting everyone else who may be on the road with you's life at risk as well. You may think you are good to drive, but everyone who gets behind the wheel of a car drunk and kills or injures someone thinks that, too. Don't be an asshole. Have a designated driver, stop drinking with enough time to sober up before you head home, or make plans to crash at the party.**

**Or die. Those are your options.**

**Also, don't leave your drink unattended at any party. You may trust most of the people there, but there's always that one group of creepy people that show up that no one really invited but who somehow manage to be at the party and give you the crazy eyes. Even though you don't hear about it quite so often, GHB and Roofies are still a very serious problem, and alcohol in and of itself can also lower your ability to make good choices. Always keep your wits about you if you are drinking at a party. **

**I mean, what if you wake up next to JBI in the morning? You'll wish you had listened to me, right? **

**PLAY SAFE AND STAY SAFE! **

******title is from the song of the same name by Selena Gomez, and I highly recommend listening to it if you want to hear the inspiration for this chapter. SO MANY S2 FEELS!


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